


Skiving

by BelfastDocks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Dolores Umbridge Being an Asshole, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts, Missing Scene, Platonic Romance, Skipping Class, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 07:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15903999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelfastDocks/pseuds/BelfastDocks
Summary: A short missing moment from "Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix". Angelina and George skive off classes and discover yet another nasty secret of Delores Umbridge's reign of terror. George/Angelina before George/Angelina became George/Angelina.





	Skiving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MandyinKC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandyinKC/gifts).



> For MandyinKC, who asked me for more George/Angelina ages and ages ago. This is just a (very) short one-shot "missing moment" of sorts, taking place during Harry Potter & The Order of the Pheonix, after Umbridge takes over the school. I had some thoughts on Umbridge's regime, and this story was a way for me to examine a couple of ideas and get some creativity flowing.
> 
> Originally posted on FFnet in February 2017, added to AO3 in 2018 to maintain.
> 
> ~BD

****

## Skiving

****

It was late January, and the weather was downright cold. The corridors had a distinct chill in them that made everyone pull their scarves and cloaks closer. A few students rushed to class, clearly running late, because the bell was due to ring any moment. And quite unfortunately, Angelina found herself to be one of those students.

Normally, she _wasn't_ one of those students. Normally, she was extremely punctual, arriving to class with plenty of time to spare so she could review her notes. But today she'd overslept, she hadn't made it to breakfast, and quite honestly, she was in a downright sour mood.

And hungry. She was starving, actually.

And _bullocks_ , now that she thought about it, she'd left her Muggle Studies book in the dorm.

Shivering, Angelina ducked behind a tapestry into a hidden staircase and sat down inside a tight niche halfway down the bend. Lighting her wand, she began rummaging through her satchel, but while her Transfiguration book and a couple of library books were present, she couldn't find _Living Amongst Muggles Undetected_. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. _Blast_. She didn't want to race back up four floors and stumble into class ten minutes late. Perhaps she should just skive off, and the hell with it. But if she did that, she would have to get back to Gryffindor Tower before Umbridge (or a member of her infuriating little squad), detected her and took points from Gryffindor. Not, of course, that any _more_ points could be taken from Gryffindor...the hourglass was virtually empty these days. As soon as McGonagall or Flitwick or Sprout added points, Umbridge or a Slytherin would remove them. The points were likely in the negative range by now, considering how much Umbridge seemed to loathe Harry.

Distantly, Angelina heard the courtyard bell clanging the hour. Well, that was that. No sense in going to class at all. She might as well nick down to the kitchens and beg the house elves for some kippers and toast. She'd have to cast a Disillusionment Charm though...

"Well, well. Skiving off, Johnson? Never would have thought it of _you_."

Angelina closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten. The last person she needed berating her right now was George Weasley.

No, strike that. The last person she needed berating her right now was _Fred_ Weasley; George was, at the very least, second-to-the-last.

"Wandering around without your evil twin?" she asked sardonically, finally opening her eyes to glare at him. The fact that he had followed her into the hidden staircase was unnerving. She hadn't heard him behind her, and it wasn't often the twins went separate ways.

"Alas, my evil twin has other things to do today. What class are you skiving?"

He wedged into the niche beside her, much to her aggravation. She had to shift and drop her satchel to the stairs to make room for him, and even then he was pressed up against her from ankle to knee, knee to hip, and hip to shoulder.

"Advanced Muggle Studies," she said coldly, ignoring the way her skin tingled at their proximity. "And you?"

"Free period," he replied lightly.

Ah, that explained where Fred was, at any rate. Probably hidden in a broom closet with that Hufflepuff sixth year he had been flirting with recently. Angelina couldn't say she cared one way or the other. She and Fred had gone to the Yule Ball in their fifth year, but that had been two years ago. She hadn't been particularly interested in dating him even back then, and certainly not now. She had her reasons. The twins looked identical, but Angelina knew damned well that their personalities deviated drastically. They would never let anyone know that, of course. But it was true all the same. She hadn't spent almost seven years in their company at Hogwarts not to learn that much.

The silence stretched slightly – she could hear doors slamming and a few last, straggling footsteps in the corridors, before everything became unearthly quiet. Then she realized, quite suddenly, that she was far too close to George. Despite the cold, her palms broke into a sweat and she had the simultaneous desires to both bolt, and lean closer to him.

Desperate to keep her secret, Angelina stood up and brusquely said, "If I'm going to skive, I'd best get going before Umbridge finds me."

"Heading back to the Tower?" he asked.

"Nope." Without waiting for his reply, she tapped her head with her wand and felt the Disillusionment Charm trickle down her body. George looked bemused.

Angelina sighed at his expression. "Kitchens," she said wearily. "I'm starving, and I've learned not to accept food items from you or Fred."

She started down the stairs, only to hear George's footsteps behind her. She glanced back, but she didn't see him – he had cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself, and was following her. She wondered why he was so determined to hang around her this morning. Part of her didn't want him to, and the other part did. They hadn't been alone together much before, and it was unnerving.

By the time they reached the kitchens, her stomach was rumbling, and she was certain if she happened to pass Umbridge, the woman would hear her before seeing her. Nervously, Angelina tickled the pear in the painting, and a moment later, the handle appeared.

The huge kitchen was warm and cheery, with the House Elves bustling around and tidying things up from breakfast. A cursory glance of the room told Angelina that they were alone, so she removed the charm. A couple of elves immediately saw her and squeaked in shock. More elves turned, their eyes widening, but unlike the other times Angelina had visited the kitchens, the creatures did not come running to assist her. They stood back, looking fearful. Some even stepped _backwards_ , away from them.

"I, uh, missed breakfast," she said lamely. "I was hoping I could get some kippers or toast, perhaps."

Beside her, George became visible as well, and the house elves looked back and forth between them. Finally, one particular elf came forward with downcast eyes. "We is sorry, miss. We cannot help."

George frowned. "But you've always helped before if a student was hungry. I thought it was part of your contract with the school, or something."

The elf twisted his robe between his long fingers. "Before, yes," he admitted sadly. "But now, we has new orders. We is not to help any students by giving them food."

Angelina felt her ire rising sharply as the truth struck her between her eyes like a hot iron. "Let me guess," she snarled. " _Professor_ Umbridge?"

The elf refused to look at her. "We is sorry, miss. We has our orders."

She turned, not giving the elves a chance to say anything else, and stormed out. She made sure to grab George by his arm before he could start arguing – if he did, the elves would likely tell Umbridge they had been down in the kitchens, and then they would lose even more points for Gryffindor.

Out in the hall, she quickly recast the Disillusionment Charm and made sure George was hidden, too. The painting changed back from a door handle to still life.

"What a bitch," George said hollowly, somewhere beside her. "I could Stun them all, and we could take what we want."

"No. She'd trace it to us. Let's just go back to the Tower." Angelina was nettled and angry, mostly because she couldn't do anything about the situation. It was just like Umbridge to put a ban on students from nicking food from the kitchens. What on earth would the _Hufflepuffs_ do, _starve_? She knew most of them snuck out at night because their common room was so nearby, and the elves had always given them whatever they wanted for their parties, sans alcohol. One of her Hufflepuff friends had once secretly told her that their Founder had charged the house elves with helping any student who was hungry, for Helga Hufflepuff couldn't bear the idea of anyone starving. Umbridge's order had superseded that of a Founder, and that nettled Angelina more than anything else. How could Umbridge override ancient magic? It was disturbing and frightening. There was no one to ask, either.

The trek back to Gryffindor Tower seemed to take forever, and by the time they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Angelina's stomach was grumbling worse than ever. _Just great_ , she thought dejectedly. She was finally alone with George for once, and her stomach was making horrific noises that would turn any bloke off from wanting to date her. Surely he had heard the sounds; she couldn't cover them up very well. Of course, he hadn't said anything, but that was probably because he was too embarrassed.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear George give the password. The Fat Lady looked around wildly, and George removed his Disillusionment Charm.

"It's just me!" he snapped. "Wild Fire Whiz Bangs!"

"Sneaking around, invisible!" the portrait complained furiously. "No thought to my poor nerves!" She swung open, still ranting about students skiving off classes and frightening her. Angelina clambered in behind George.

The common room was fairly empty, except for a couple of their classmates, who were studying by the fire. In no mood to chat, Angelina started up the girls' stairs, when George stopped her.

"Wait. Come with me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

He rolled his. "Just come on, Johnson."

Without waiting for her response, he started up the spiral stairs for the boys' dorms. Reluctantly, Angelina followed.

The seventh year boys' dorms were vacant; the rest of the students in their year were either in class or else had a free period. Angelina suddenly felt self-conscious, standing in an empty dorm with George, with comfortable-looking beds all around. Her brain started trying to weave a brief fantasy: curled up on one of those beds with George, feeling his lips caressing down her neck...

She jerked herself out of the daydream as George rummaged in his trunk. It was no good to let her mind drift in that direction, and she knew it.

He emerged a moment later with a bar of Honeydukes chocolate and held it out.

Angelina didn't take it. "What is it?" she asked warily.

He smiled. "I promise, it's not a trick. It's just chocolate. You're starving, Johnson."

Her stomach rumbled at that precise moment, betraying her, and she swore. George laughed, and she snatched the chocolate from him.

"I shouldn't be surprised that you find bodily noises so entertaining," she said sourly, trying to cover her embarrassment.

He sat down on the rumpled bed and motioned for her to join him. "Nah. You're just hungry. You should hear Fred trumping, it's way more disgusting than your stomach."

She rolled her eyes and gingerly sat down beside him, trying to will her heart to stop racing. "Now I'm definitely _not_ hungry."

"Just eat. You need to keep your strength up to avoid Umbridge. We all do. And it looks like we can't count on the house elves anymore."

She glanced at the chocolate and hesitatingly took a bite. To her immense relief, it was really _just_ chocolate. George hadn't tricked her at all. Her eyes fluttered shut in gratitude. Merlin, it was good stuff. She really was starving.

When she finished the bar and tossed the crumpled wrapper in the bin by George's bed, she sighed heavily and relaxed. "That was scrummy. Thank you." Then, as an afterthought, she guiltily added, "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Oh?" He leaned back on his palms and grinned at her – that sloppy, easy grin that always made her stomach flip a little.

"Yeah. I thought you were going to turn me into a toad. And I'm not too chuffed about toads."

"I promise, I won't ever trick you, Angie."

The use of her shortened given name was like a punch in her gut. He always called her "Johnson". As long as he called her "Johnson", they were just mates. She glanced at him, her breath catching slightly. His ears were pink and he was looking towards the floor, avoiding her gaze.

"Thanks," she whispered.

There was an awkward silence, before Angelina rose and brushed her hands off on her robes. She needed to get out of his room, before anything weird happened. Before she hauled off and kissed him, or some other scenario in which her brain effectively disengaged. She mumbled, "I should probably get some work done since I'm skiving off."

"And leave me up here? I was hoping you might stay. Give Fred a shock when he finally drifts back in."

"As fun as that sounds, I'll have to pass."

"We could take a nap," he teased.

"Nope, sorry. We've had enough fun for one day, Georgie."

He made a face. "Fine, then. Your loss, Johnson."

_Back to surnames_. She felt a wave of strange relief. They were in familiar territory again. She stopped at the door and smiled over her shoulder at him. "Thanks again. Really."

She didn't wait for him to respond. Before her common sense flew out the window, she hurried down the stairs and went to the girls' dormitories, intent on curling up in her own bed for a few hours. Perhaps she could have a nice fantasy and the nap he had mentioned - both were better than thinking about the fact that Umbridge was controlling the house elves. Tomorrow was another day, and she wasn't quite ready to face this one yet.

**~FIN~**


End file.
